


Practice Prompts

by incorrectbatfam



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: A collection of original works based on prompts from different sources.
Relationships: Original Character(s) & Original Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. Sunshower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combining two prompts into one: a written and an image prompt!

**Prompt:** Most of us probably know all those soulmate AU prompts from Tumblr: first words tattooed on your wrist, you can only see in the color of your soulmate's eyes, a timer until you meet them, etc. So today's prompt is to pick your favorite couple (they can be original characters or fictional characters) and write a quick drabble of them using your favorite soulmate AU!

* * *

"Mom says to come home. Barney needs his bath."

Her fingers fiddled with the leather rope that held a giant, pearly axolotl in place. A wind blew, uncomfortably lukewarm as it passed through her frilled skirt. Old rainwater leaked into her shoes. The animal waited beside her, patient as a loyal retriever.

"Funny. Didn't the bitch tell me she never wanted to see my stupid face again?"

He lit a cigarette. From the smell on his jacket, it was his fourth that afternoon. Fifth, maybe. She knew her brother well enough to know he could never settle for just one.

"She was angry," the girl said. "She doesn't mean any of it."

"She said I'm a deadbeat. And she's right." 

"Your family is proud of you," she insisted.

"Right, Mom and Dad, the good churchgoers without a sinful bone in their body, would be proud of the person who gave up on their soulmate. Who only dates for the casual fucks. Well, maybe I don't wanna settle down with 'the one', whatever that even means." The cigarette butt hit the puddle like a skipping stone.

She looked from her pet to his angler to him and back to the ground. Her toe traced little swirls in the wet sidewalk silt as she listened to the older boy's rant.

"What's the point of it all anyway? Soulmates are a bunch of bull. Two people that the universe randomly decided would fall madly in love, that's ridiculous."

She crossed her arms. "I don't think you're angry at Mom," she said. "I think you're bitter 'cause all your friends met their soulmates and can see colors and you're stuck with a black-and-white world."

"Who says I only see black and white?" he snapped. "Your hair, it's the same color as Goldilocks'. Why do you think I gave you that nickname?"

The girl moved across the alleyway, allowing the two animals to mingle. 

She said, "So you've met your soulmate."

"No, I haven't. I didn't meet anyone and have the same 'holy shit' moment as everyone else. I've been seeing colors since forever. As long as you've been alive." He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Whatever, probably just a genetic fluke.”

Despite the blonde hair matted to her forehead from the sunshower, despite the way her damp clothes itched and how her legs were sore, a giggle escaped her lips.

"That might actually explain it," she said. "I'm the exact same. I've been seeing colors my whole life too. I thought you couldn't so it's why I helped you with stuff like that." She pointed to the boy's brilliant blue spiky hair. "But I never met anyone either."

Above them, thunder rumbled lowly.

He asked her, "You think you'll ever meet yours? Fall in love with them?"

She shook her head. "No, but I'm fine with that."


	2. Salisbury Steak

**Prompt:** You were blinded in an accident years ago; your family took care of you ever since. One morning you wake up and your sight has returned, but you pretend to stay blind until you figure out who the people in your house are and what happened to your real family.

* * *

In my periphery I watched as a girl no older than sixteen guided me to the dinner table. A man had cut up my food already—Salisbury steak with brussels sprouts, my least favorite. 

Better than nothing, I supposed. My joints were too old, too creaky. No longer fit for liberty.

She placed me at the head, like she always did.

“Grandfather, would you like some lemon with that?” she asked.

As always, I said yes.

To the left of me was a boy of ten, dressed like a little sailor. Red mud-colored his white socks all the way up to his skinned knees. The girl pulled up a chair next to him.

To the right of me was a frazzled middle-aged woman, and to the right of her was a high chair with a baby and a bowl of orange mush. 

At the other end of the table was a man. Clean-shaven, wearing a freshly starched suit.

“How was work today, Ernest?” I asked.

“Quite productive, Father,” he replied. “We received the new shipment at the plant. Now all we need to do is process and distribute.”

The boy chimed in, mouth full of food like an untrained dog, “Dad took me to work today. Said I’m gon’ inherit the family business, just like he did from you.”

I never had a business. I worked in the same general store my entire life. My family would know this.

“He did now?” I asked, forking the pungent sprouts. “You must be very excited, boy. It’s quite a lucrative trade. Your old man may be the only seller in a thousand miles!”

“Two thousand,” Ernest corrected. “I devoured the competition, remember? See kids, they were tough. They were the ones who blinded your grandfather. A classic story of sabotage.”

I was blinded in an auto accident.

“Indeed they did,” I said, “but we took care of them as a family. That’s the most important part.”

As we men talked, I noticed the girl picking at her dinner, her nose turned. She pulled it all apart with her fork until it was just a plate of ground meat with a single, tiny white thing in the middle.

She exclaimed, “Ugh, Mum! I told you not to pick an Irish. They’re all bone and no meat.”

“Eat your food, Constance,” the woman chided. “A little calcium never hurt anybody.”

“Your mother is right,” I said. “You should be grateful for what you’re given.”


End file.
